Shadow
by Bliss-06
Summary: The transformation was painful to witness.
1. Chapter 1

**May 5, 2008**

"I am fine, Gibbs, really." Ziva insisted weakly. Gibbs wasn't fooled, and held either side of her face, searching her face for signs of illness. Ziva lowered her head, refusing to meet his probing eyes. The tussle with their latest suspect – the killer of three Navy officers – had left _him_ dead, and Ziva fighting to stand after a bout of dizziness.

"You're not _fine_, Ziva, you almost fainted just now. Here's Ducky, let him take a look at you," Ziva started to protest, "that's an _order_, Officer David." Gibbs directed her to a nearby chair and forced her to sit.

Ziva sighed with exasperation. "This is ridiculous. I said I was fine, I am not a child." She glared at Ducky as he peered into her eyes with his penlight.

"Don't get hostile with _me_, young lady, I am simply following orders." Ducky nodded towards Gibbs. "As should you, my dear." He added. "Agent Gibbs does not get concerned over nothing." Ducky gazed at her sternly.

She ducked her head. "I am fine." She mumbled again. She surrendered to his poking and prodding and obeyed his commands.

--

**May 8, 2008**

Ziva sat in the doctor's office, alone. She stared at the x-rays, stunned. They were hung up in front of her, exposing her heartbreaking secret for anyone to see. They showed a mass located between her sinus and cerebrum – a nasopharyngeal brain tumor was what the doctor had called it. Inoperable.

Amidst the doctor's clinical ramblings, Ziva had managed to understand three things. One, she had cancer. Two, it was inoperable. Three, if it pushed into her brain, she would die. The treatment was simply chemo and radiation.

After his cold explanation of her condition, he had left her to her thoughts. He had mumbled something about "understanding this was a lot to process" and then had rushed out of the room. She had finally come to a simple conclusion, she was going to die. And she was going to be sick as hell before she got there.

A million thoughts raced through her mind. _How long do I have to live? What am I going to tell the team? Am I ready to die?_

If she were anyone else, she'd probably cry. But she was Ziva, and Ziva doesn't cry. She slid off of the examination table, giving the x-rays one more glance before marching out of the room, turning her back on her fate.

--

**May 20, 2008**

Ziva emerged from the bathroom for the third time in two hours, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. She knew she could not put off telling the team for much longer; they already suspected something was very wrong. The doctor had offered her a new type of chemotherapy that doesn't cause hair loss, so she was able to keep her secret for awhile longer. However, she was becoming increasingly ill, and grew weaker everyday.

She was sure Gibbs knew she was hiding something, but he hadn't yet approached her about it. She appreciated the gesture, knowing that he was giving her time to come to him first. Her feelings of attachment to him, as well as the rest of the team, had increased significantly since she had learned of her illness. The idea of having limited time left with them secretly frightened her, but she would never admit it, not even to herself.

She sat down at her desk and studied each of her colleagues momentarily before settling her eyes on Gibbs. She had great respect for the man, as well as a great fondness. Sometimes she wondered if she was attracted to him, but always squelched the feelings as she knew she couldn't act on them. He was one of the few men who wasn't secretly terrified of her, and she appreciated that.

He felt her eyes on him and looked up from his paperwork. She smiled briefly then pretended to focus on something on her computer to avoid his inquiring gaze. She could feel his eyes boring into her, willing her to confide in him. She would have to, soon.

--

**May 22, 2008**

Ziva took a deep breath when she finished speaking, feeling as if a huge weight had been lifted off of her chest. The people surrounding her were speechless; Abby had tears in her eyes, Tony was studying his feet, and McGee was staring off into space, the muscles in his face twitching as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. Gibbs stared straight at her, his jaw set and an emotion she had never seen before clouding his brilliant blue eyes.

"How long?" Gibbs asked abruptly. Abby looked at him in disbelief.

Ziva appreciated his blunt question, however. She didn't want them to be shy about it. "6 months to a year." She stated plainly. She leaned heavily on her desk, refusing to sit down and show how weak she really was.

"Oh, Ziva…" Abby grabbed her and hugged her in the way only Abby could. Ziva started to protest, but decided against it and simply patted her on the back.

"I am fine, Abby. Sir, I will work as long as I am able. I do not wish for anyone to toe-tip around me, please just treat me as you normally would." She looked around at each of her colleagues.

Tony finally looked up, a strange smile on his face. "You mean tiptoe." He corrected her quietly.

Ziva half-smiled and waved her hand in the air. "Same thing."

"Don't you want to go back to Israel and be with your family?" Gibbs asked, already knowing the answer.

Ziva didn't disappoint. "No. I will not run away and cower in the solitude of my own home. I will work as long as I am able and die when I must." She shocked them with the blatancy of her statement. Abby started crying silently.

"Do not cry for me, Abby. It will only make things worse." Abby nodded and sniffled, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Have you told the Director?" Gibbs asked.

Ziva shook her head and glanced up towards Jenny's office. She sighed heavily. "I am on my way up there now." She was torn between running from the group and taking her time getting to the Director's office. She didn't really want to repeat the story, but she knew Jenny would at least spare her the dramatics.

--

Once inside the Jenny's office, Ziva shut the door behind her. Jenny greeted Ziva with a nod, watching her curiously as she took a seat in front of the desk. "Ziva." They stared at each other for a moment; Jenny taking in Ziva's haggard appearance; Ziva putting off the inevitable conversation. Finally Jenny broke the silence.

"You're ill. How serious?" Jenny got straight to the point. Ziva almost smiled; Jenny knew her so well.

"A nasopharyngeal tumor between my sinus and cerebrum. I've started chemotherapy and radiation; the doctor says I have 6 months to a year. So, I guess pretty serious." Ziva's words hung heavy in the air between them; Jenny's expression showed no signs of surprise, but Ziva could see the unspoken words in her eyes.

Ziva sighed. "You know how I feel about pity, Jen." Her personal use of Jenny's name added more words to the parallel conversation that was taking place silently.

Jenny nodded. "And you know that I don't pity you. Not in the slightest. My feelings are selfish, not sympathetic." Jenny let her words sink in and Ziva felt a small tug at her heart.

"I'd send you home to Israel, but I know you better than that. I'll allow you to continue working as long as you're physically able." Her words were strictly professional, seemingly heartless to anyone else's ears, but Ziva was relieved.

"Off the record, Ziva," Jenny continued, "You're a damn fine addition to this team, not to mention a dear friend whom I will always owe my life to." Her voice cracked slightly and she broke eye contact, looking away at the wall. She fought an internal battle of emotions, straining to keep from breaking.

Ziva sighed again. "Jen…" She began softly. Jenny cut her off with a wave of her hand as she stood and went to the window.

Her voice was thick when she spoke again. "I'm fine, Ziva. I'm human, not heartless." Ziva knew the tears had spilled even with Jenny's back to her. She regretted making Jenny feel that showing any emotion in front of her was weak. She joined her at the window, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"I am not sure why everyone else is crying, I am the one who is going to die." Ziva smirked, trying to lighten the mood. It failed, and Jenny choked.

"Stop it, it's not funny." Jenny glared at her own reflection in the glass, hating her emotions for betraying her. She sighed and finally turned to face Ziva. "I'd ask how you're handling it, but I'm pretty certain I already know the answer."

Ziva smiled faintly, lowering her head slightly and avoiding Jenny's gaze. "I am fine."

Jenny nodded. "Yep, just the answer I was expecting." She placed a finger under Ziva's chin, forcing her to meet her eyes. "How are you _really?_"

Ziva relented and dropped her guard slightly, allowing Jenny to really see into her eyes. "How is anyone when they are told they have less than a year to live?" She spoke almost in a whisper, afraid to let anyone hear the vulnerability in her voice.

Jenny's breath hitched and she swallowed hard. "Afraid? Angry? Betrayed?" She replied just as quietly. "I've seen you at some of your worst moments, Ziva. You don't have to be invincible around me."

Ziva faltered, and Jenny almost thought she was about to cry, but she set her jaw and her walls returned. "Thank you. I should be getting back to work." She smiled then headed for the door, leaving Jenny alone, staring after her sadly.

--

**June 6, 2008**

Ziva leaned over the table, glaring at the suspect. "I will ask you one more time. _Where _is she?" She shoved the picture of the Navy Lieutenant in his face.

The middle-aged man was rough looking, with numerous scars marring his face. His eyes were cold and emotionless as he stared at the picture. He finally looked back at Ziva and grinned at her wickedly. This infuriated her, and she had to back away to refrain from wiping the grin from his face.

Behind the observation glass, Gibbs and the Director watch intently, both ready to spring into action if Ziva lost her temper. Her fuse had been noticeably shorter since her illness, and she had gotten careless with keeping it in check. She rattled easier as of late, and it had been increasingly difficult to keep her under control.

"He's pushing her. She's gonna snap." Jenny warned. She had told Gibbs not to let Ziva do the interrogation, but he trusted her with it anyways. Gibbs ignored Jenny's comment.

Back inside the observation room, Ziva was having a staring contest with the suspect. She grit her teeth, wrestling with the urge to fall back on old interrogation techniques. She slowly made her way around to his side of the table, fully aware of Gibbs' and Jenny's eyes watching her every move.

The suspect watched her out of the corner of his eye, a lazy smile curling the corners of his mouth. Ziva stood behind him, bending down and pressing her mouth to his ear. Pulling her knife from it's hiding place in her pants, she pressed the cool blade to his cheek. She watched his reflection in the mirror. His face showed no visible reaction, but she felt him shift slightly in the chair.

"If you do not cooperate, I will have to cut off one body part for each time you refuse, hmm?" She murmured in a sickeningly sweet voice. Despite his effort to remain calm, the suspect's breath caught when she pressed the edge of the blade to his throat. She was mildly surprised that Gibbs had not already come barging in to dismiss her.

_Perhaps he is allowing me to have a little fun before I die, _she thought bitterly.

"Now, perhaps you would like to tell me where you have hidden Lieutenant Keyes." She kept the blade pressed to his throat, careful not to draw blood… yet.

The suspect muttered something in Spanish under his breath. Ziva hesitated only for a moment before hauling him out of the chair and slamming him against the wall with a hand closed around his throat. He stared at her in shock, his calm exterior shattered. She started spitting Hebrew at him, pressing the flat side of the blade into his cheek forcefully. She vaguely heard the door slam open as Gibbs barged in, Jenny hot on his heels. She felt a strong arm around her waist as he pulled her away from the suspect, then shoved her gently in Jenny's direction.

Ziva heard a ringing in her ears when she stopped yelling Hebrew. Gibbs had shoved the suspect back into his chair and was growling something at him that Ziva couldn't make out – his voice sounded a million miles away. She turned her head to look at Jenny, whose mouth was moving but no words were coming out. Ziva frowned at her, confused. The room slowly started to spin and shadows started creeping in at the edges of her vision. Jenny's face was contorted into something resembling concern, everything was so blurry. She felt something wet drip from her nose, and when she wiped it away, there was blood on her fingers.

More shadows.

Jenny's hands on either side of her face.

Gibbs swum into view.

More shadows. More ringing.

She felt the floor buckle and four hands grab her as everything began to fade to black. She could hear their voices calling her from far away.

Then there was nothing.

--


	2. Chapter 2

July 1, 2008 July 1, 2008

McGee stood next to the hospital bed, watching her sleep. It had been almost a month since she had collapsed while interrogating a suspect; that was the last time they saw her at work. Since then she had faded quickly, and now she was confined to her hospital bed, too weak to even stand.

They had all visited her daily, bringing her flowers – which she hated – and balloons – which she also hated. The gift she had liked the most was when Abby had loaned her Bert; he sat on the stand next to her bed. McGee had actually caught her sleeping with him once; she had insisted that one of the nurses must have stuck him in bed with her.

Now she was just a ghost. A shell. Her eyes no longer held the glimmer they once did; the gleam that always seemed to say 'I know something you don't.' She was skin and bones. Her now pale skin clung to her skeleton like a wet gown.

He picked up one of her bony hands, rubbing his thumb in circles over the back of it absentmindedly. Gibbs had come in the bullpen this morning, looking ragged and defeated. He had grimly informed them that it was time for them to come say their goodbyes.

So here he was. He had so much to say to her, and yet he could barely formulate a coherent thought. It was painful to see her this way.

He visibly jumped when her gravelly voice broke the silence. "Are you just going to stand there and stare at me all day?" She smiled weakly, her eyes half open.

His lips twisted into what was supposed to be a smile, but came out looking more like a grimace.

Her fragile little body shook slightly when she laughed. "Do I look that bad, McGee?"

This time he smiled genuinely. "You look beautiful, Ziva. As Always." She closed her eyes and smiled softly.

"You are here to say goodbye, yes?" Her eyes gazed at him sadly. His stomach lurched with her blunt question, and he had to swallow his heart when it threatened to spill out of his mouth.

He didn't trust himself to say anything intelligent, so he simply nodded. She smiled reassuringly. "You do not have to say anything, McGee. I am just glad that you came." He admired the strength in her voice, even now.

He just nodded again, forgoing the effort of trying to fight back the tears. He brought her hand to his lips and rested them there for a moment in a lingering kiss that brought a beautifully sweet smile to her face.

--

Abby was next. She was all tears and hugs and hysterics as only Abby could be. As much as it may have annoyed Ziva in the past, it warmed her heart now. Her emotional goodbyes exhausted Ziva, and she had to sleep for two hours before anyone else could have their turn.

Ducky came and went, wishing her his best – as if it mattered now – and comforting her in only the way Ducky could.

--

Tony was next; he lingered in the doorway, leaning heavily against the frame.

"Ah, Tony. Come to send off your partner with your charm and amazing wit?" Ziva grinned, expecting Tony to retort with some sarcastic comment. He didn't. To Ziva's surprise, he didn't even crack a smile.

She groaned. "You are not going to get all gushy on me are you?" Tony moved to the side of her bed, staring down at her with watery eyes. Her smile faded, to be replaced with an expression that came closer to crying than he'd ever seen her. "Come on Tony, I was counting on you to cheer me up. Everyone has been so depressing today." Her tone was light, but her face was pained; she was furiously trying to keep her mask in tact. She hated feeling this vulnerable.

"Ziva…" Tony's voice was hoarse with emotion, and Ziva closed her eyes, trying to block out the sound.

"Please." Ziva locked eyes with him, begging him silently. He understood and simply nodded; they stared at each other for several minutes, Tony telling her everything he wanted to say without uttering a word.

He leaned down and kissed her softly on the corner of her mouth; she felt a tear fall from his cheek to hers. He then smiled softly at her and turned to leave. He paused at the door way, turning back for a last glance.

"See ya later sweet cheeks."

--

"Ziva." The soft, throaty voice stirred Ziva from her nap, and she opened her eyes slowly. As her eyes focused, she found Jen standing over her, smiling warmly.

Ziva's eyes fluttered and then closed. She relaxed, allowing her mask to slip. She was so tired. "Jen." She croaked.

Jen's smile faltered slightly; her green eyes were cloudy with torment. "_My dear friend_." She rested her hand on Ziva's forehead, inwardly shocked at how cold she was.

Ziva smiled softly, forcing her eyes open so she could look at Jen. "You remember." Something sparked in Ziva's eyes, and for a moment the life returned to them.

Jen nodded, holding on desperately to that thread of life that was glimmering in Ziva's eyes. "Of course I do, you taught me." She stroked Ziva's brow with her thumb.

Ziva studied the mixture of torment and sorrow in Jen's face. She searched for and then grasped Jen's other hand that was resting beside her on the bed. "Do not mourn me, Jen." It was not a request.

Jen found herself stricken with grief and she shook slightly from the welling in her chest. Her voice was strained as she tried to speak, choking back a sob. "…not this way… you don't deserve this… you saved me." She shook her head as the words came out in broken fragments, frustrated with herself.

Ziva's face twisted and her chin trembled slightly. She squeezed Jen's hand, waiting patiently for her to regain control of her emotions.

Tremors shook Jen's body and she clenched her teeth. Another strangled sob escaped; she clung to Ziva's hand, trying desperately to calm herself. She finally settled and her eyes returned to Ziva's face. She was alarmed to find a tear sliding down Ziva's cheek.

Ziva's chin was trembling again. "I am sorry, Jen. I cannot be strong for you anymore. I am so tired. I have nothing left. _So _tired…" Her breath hitched and she coughed.

Jen sat down carefully on the edge of the bed. She moved her hand from Ziva's forehead and stroked her cheek. "You don't need to be strong for me. You don't need to be strong for anyone. You rest now." Her tone was low and soothing, and she brushed Ziva's lashes with her thumb.

Jen began singing a Hebrew lullaby softly, one that she had heard Ziva sing on occasion when they were working together in Cairo. Once her voice had lulled Ziva to sleep, she sat there for a long time, gazing at her sorrowfully.

She finally eased carefully off of the bed, leaning down to place a gentle kiss at the corner of Ziva's eye, where a single tear had lingered.

"Shalom, _my dear friend_."

--

Gibbs stood there in the dimly lit hospital room for what seemed like hours, just watching her. It reminded him of when she had come to visit him after the explosion, to make him remember – to save him. He desperately wished he could do that for her. But there was no saving her, and it was torturing him. He owed her, and he could not repay her in the way she deserved.

His presence must have stirred her from her sleep, because she murmured softly and tried to open her eyes. He immediately went to her side, taking up her hand in his own. It was smaller than he remembered, and bony.

She finally managed to force her eyes open, and it was several moments before she recognized him. "Jethro…" She whispered and then heaved in a ragged breath. She tried to squeeze his hand. His heart broke when her fingers curled weakly around his own. She was unrecognizable. The strength he had so admired in her, gone.

He remained silent, and she forced her eyes to look up into his. The incredible sorrow she found in them threatened to make her cry again. She didn't want to see him this way. She didn't want to die with the image of him looking so pitifully down at her. She closed her eyes and sighed.

"It is… ironic," she started hoarsely. "Most of my life I have been an assassin, trained to spy and kill. As many risks as I have taken, as many shoot outs and bad situations I have been put in… I survived all of them. I survived… only to be taken like this." Her voice was bitter. "In bed, useless and an invalid, with my friends staring down at me with pity." She looked away.

Gibbs said nothing. She finally looked back at him. "What does your famous gut tell you now, Jethro?"

He shook his head, swallowing hard before he spoke. "That I've failed." His voice was barely above a whisper and she had to strain to hear him.

She stared at him, confused. "Failed? How?"

"I owe you, Ziva."

She suddenly understood what he was talking about. "No, you owe me nothing."

"You saved me. You brought me back. Now I'm supposed to save you, and I can't." His voice betrayed his frustration and he looked down at their hands, still entwined.

"You have saved me a thousand times since then. In more ways than you know." Her voice wavered and she swallowed. "No one can save me now. I have accepted that, so must you." She drew in another ragged breath; the conversation was exhausting her.

He clenched his jaw, angry with himself, with everything. With this disease for taking her and breaking her. For making her fade so quickly.

He shook his head and glared at the wall.

"Jethro." She whispered and he looked back down at her. "Will you do something for me?"

He nodded. "Anything."

"Will you build a boat for me? And actually finish it this time?" She closed her eyes and cracked a genuine smile. When she opened them again, his eyes were glistening and he nodded down at her.

"I promise, Ziva." He bent down and kissed her cheek.

He then whispered in her ear, "Safe journey."

--

Gibbs had stayed with her for a long time, but he knew she would not let go until she was alone. She went quietly in the night, drawing her last breath as images of her smiling friends played in her mind.

Her body had been shipped back to Israel, and so they held a sort of memorial service in Gibbs' basement. They all sat silently, each holding onto their own memories of her.

Abby had her head resting on McGee's shoulder, clutching Bert tightly to her chest. Tony was staring at a picture he had snapped of her on a crime scene; she was laughing hysterically at something off camera. Ducky was staring down into his glass of scotch. Gibbs was watching everyone else, thinking about how much Ziva would have hated them sitting around sulking. It brought a faint smile to his lips.

Jen was staring off into space, a blank expression on her face. Slowly and very softly, she began to sing the same lullaby she had sung to Ziva in the hospital. Her voice was haunting, enough to send shivers down everyone's spines.

Tomorrow, they would go back to work and move on with their lives. For now, they sat and listened to Jen's melancholy voice as it echoed sorrowfully in the basement.

--

Fin.


End file.
